


Ruffled Feathers and Bloody Hands

by Purple_Girl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannigram - Freeform, Homophobes Never Prosper, Jealous Hannibal, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, One Shot, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Romance, Sex in a Car, Smut, Spit As Lube, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Tease, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_Girl/pseuds/Purple_Girl
Summary: Background to this fic: It's set a few months after the season 3 finale. After Will and Hannibal survived the fall, they came to an understanding about the future, including accepting their feelings for one another; they are a couple, and still lying low from the police. They made their way to France with fake identities set up by Hannibal, and have been living together quietly in Marseille.They decide to indulge on a rare evening out, to a high-society restaurant (as if Hannibal could resist evening dining out in France.) One of the waiters appears to take a shine to Will, which Will plays on just for fun, to try and get a rise out of his ever-unflappable beloved; his game changes however into a suggestion which both stuns and delights Hannibal. The murder husbands are finally at work, and of course, at play.





	Ruffled Feathers and Bloody Hands

**Author's Note:**

> If the French is really bad, I apologise, I only had Google translate to help me (I only speak English and don't know anyone who speaks French.) I kept it to a simplistic minimum, as best I could. If any French-speaking folk have a suggestion about any bits that are really not right, I'm happy to hear improvements!
> 
> This wound up a bit different than I had planned originally, but I think I'm happy with it regardless. I had intended to have this in two chapters, but I couldn't decide where to break it, so as it turns out it's just a longer one-shot. I hope any readers enjoy. Coming up with titles is still a total bitch.
> 
> ***********************************************************************************************

“Bonsoir, Monsieur. Avez-vous une reservation?” 

“Bonsoir. Oui, une reservation pour deux. Doctor Swan.”

“Oui, excellent. Voulez-vous et votre ami suivez-moi, s’il vous plaît.” 

“Merci beaucoup.”

Hannibal and Will followed the smiling host from the front desk of the lavishly-decorated restaurant, as the elegant little man weaved smoothly through tables and wait staff towards their booked table. They were seated in an intimate booth, one of what appeared to only be four in the whole room; the backs of the conjoined leather-bound chairs stylishly curved up around them like the hood of a wary cobra, creating a little more privacy than the open tables nearby. An ornate dark-wood table just off to Hannibal’s side was elaborately decorated with a creative arrangement of white and baby-pink flowers, the tableau creating a shield of sorts from the tables to their immediate right.

The host clicked his fingers to summon a waiter, and a slender young man with a short-trimmed goatee and neatly combed blonde hair came to their table immediately with a pair of menus, and a pen poised to take their drinks order. Will remained quiet as Hannibal ordered for the both of them, feeling slightly awkward that he couldn’t speak French, as he usually did on the rare instances when they came to a place such as this. It was a tad upper-crust for his liking, although he couldn’t deny that the food in restaurants like it was always outstanding; he also knew that Hannibal sometimes craved the high-society life, and he didn’t like to deny him the occasional indulgence.

The young waiter glanced over at Will before he gave a curt nod to Hannibal, and glided away to have their drinks made, leaving them with the menus. Will watched him go, before casting his eyes around the room slowly. There were a lot of tables, and a lot of people. The restaurant was clearly a popular choice in the city; he felt glad for the privacy of their table.

“Is everything alright, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“Just scoping the exits,” Will replied, bringing his gaze back to his dinner companion. “Just in case, you know.”

“Crowded places still make you nervous, when in fact they make an excellent place in which to be inconspicuous,” Hannibal said pointedly. “Amongst so many faces, our own are far less likely to be noticed.”

Will was quiet for a moment.

“You’re right, of course,” he said finally. “It’s just that we don’t venture out in public like this very often. I’m still getting used to being bolder in that respect. It’s only been a couple of months.” He lowered his voice and added, “Your picture still appears in the news. You don’t exactly have a forgettable face.”

Hannibal smiled, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “That almost sounded like a compliment, Will.”

Will rolled his eyes but gave a small smile back. “Handsome faces stick in people’s memory.”

Chuckling softly, Hannibal replied, “I would surmise that people are far more likely to remember the grotesque than the beautiful. But, if the latter is true, then your face must be emblazoned in the memory of a great many people.”

Will felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the praise. “Stop it, _Doctor Swan_ ,” he murmured, still smiling.

Their moment was interrupted by the return of the waiter, who placed a large glass of light red wine before Hannibal, and a smaller glass of neat whisky in front of Will. 

“Merci,” Hannibal nodded.

“Thank you,” Will said quietly, feeling silly once more for his lack of the language, but wanting to be polite.

The waiter gave him a curious little smile, his eyes lingering on Will’s face a beat longer than was necessary, before turning back to Hannibal to ask what they’d like to order. Will put his head down to look at his drink, feeling uncomfortable for the waiter’s gaze. He listened to them briefly speak, feeling a flicker of pride for Hannibal; the complex-sounding (to Will, at least) French rolled off his tongue effortlessly, and his tone was courteous yet commanding, radiating confidence in a place where they could technically be discovered and have all Hell break loose.

The waiter’s green eyes shifted over Will again, trying and failing to catch his eye, before taking the menus from the table and walking away towards the wide double doors leading to the kitchen.

“I feel like that guy keeps looking at me, as if he’s trying to place me,” Will muttered. He took a long sip of his drink and then shook head, “I don’t know, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

Hannibal reached out and sat his hand on Will’s wrist. Will looked at their hands distractedly, studying the contrast between the simple dark brown of his suit jacket and the rich maroon of Hannibal’s, with it’s very faint paisley pattern. Different styles, different personalities. He so anxious, Hannibal so calm.

“It’s unlikely anything is going to happen, Will. But if it did, I assure you, I would find us a way through it,” Hannibal said softly, putting two fingers beneath Will’s chin to encourage him to look up at him. “You needn’t worry about one waiter. He is paid to be attentive. We will be alright. I want you to enjoy the evening. I believe we both could use it, after the last few weeks.”

Will sighed, finally allowing himself to feel a little more relaxed under Hannibal’s reassuring gaze. He brought his own hand up to wrap around the fingers under his chin, moving them forward enough to be able to rest his lips on them, not quite a kiss, just pressing against the skin, enjoying the contact. He closed his eyes and sighed again as he felt Hannibal’s other hand lightly stroke his cheek, brushing his stubble with one thumb.

“Feel better?” Hannibal asked him gently.

“Mmhmm,” Will murmured, opening his eyes, and smiling fondly at Hannibal’s beautifully sculpted face. “I’ll never understand how you maintain that unbreakable composure. Even when the unexpected crops up, whatever it is, you’re more or less unflappable. How do you manage that? I feel like I could panic right out of my skin sometimes.”

“I have always had an aptitude for excellent self-control,” Hannibal replied, his hand slipping from Will’s face into his hair to caress the dark curls. “It comes easily to me. Very little affects me. You feel fear often, as most people do; I do not, and fear is the greatest emotion for rattling one’s ability to control themselves.”

“What about anger?” Will mused. “You always manage to keep your temper. That can’t be easy. There must have been times when you’ve felt furious over something.”

Hannibal tilted his head nonchalantly with a slight shrug of one shoulder, “Things that most might consider worth getting angry over, are often trivial to me.”

“Even jealousy?” Will pressed. “Great men have fallen to the power of envy. Possessions, people, etc.”

“I am not a jealous man, Will. I don’t envy what anyone else has,” Hannibal replied, dropping his hand from Will’s hair and sitting back a little as their waiter returned to the table with two small plates of colourful vitelotte potato salad. 

Will took a moment to quickly scrutinise the waiter while he was presenting Hannibal’s plate, then turned away in pretence of looking at the colourful abstract painting on the wall above their booth when the young man set his plate down. Will only turned to the food when he heard the waiter’s footsteps walking away. 

He glanced up for a moment, and saw that the waiter chanced a look back at him, with a friendly smile. A very friendly smile, his eyes once again holding Will’s a fraction longer than he perhaps should. There wasn’t any worry or confusion in that smile. Could it be that the waiter simply found him attractive? The man could see that Will was clearly intimate with Hannibal, so if he also had a propensity for male company, it wasn’t out-with the realm of possibility that he might flirt, inappropriate though it was, considering Hannibal’s presence.

Interesting.

Taking a small forkful of his salad, he chewed slowly, making sure to savour the flavours – a habit he had learned from Hannibal, who used to look disapprovingly at him if he ate too quickly – while he watched Hannibal do the same. As the doctor ate, Will’s eyes began to sparkle with amusement, and he found himself uttering a quiet giggle.

“Is there something funny about your salad…?” Hannibal asked, looking at him expectantly.

“I was just thinking that seeing you lose your cool could actually be really funny, under the right circumstances,” Will grinned. “You’re always so _collected_. I think I’d enjoy seeing those pristine feathers ruffled. I’d quite like to be the one to ruffle them.”

Hannibal gave him the patient smile of an adult condescending to a child.

“My dear Will,” he said smugly, “we could see a hundred thousand days together, and you still wouldn’t be likely to truly see my ‘feathers ruffled’. At this point, even I cannot imagine what could cause my equanimity to be interrupted. We have been through the worst of everything, and come out reborn on the other side; anything else now is merely, as they say, small potatoes.” He punctuated his point by piercing a little chunk of the vibrant purple potato on his plate and popping it into his mouth with a smirk.

“Perhaps I shall find a potato big enough, doctor,” Will grinned, taking a bite of his own salad, and winking at his companion.

 

**********

 

Half way through their main course of succulent topside beef with shallots roasted in sherry vinegar - Will had delighted Hannibal by specifically requesting a palette cleanser first, after the peppery mustard seeds in the salad - Will caught sight of their waiter at another table, sneaking another coy look in his direction. Hannibal noticed it this time too, and although his face didn’t change, his cool stare towards the young man was enough of a threat to send him scurrying off to the bar.

That cold, near-imperceptible look had caught Will’s interest. He suppressed a mischievous smile, before turning to Hannibal in a confidential tone, “you know, I think our waiter might have taken a fancy to me. He’s definitely been looking at me, I’ve seen it several times.”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal replied in a clipped tone. “Before we leave, I must compliment the chef on these vegetables. Cooked to perfection.” Changing the topic.

Will smiled to himself.

“He just checked me out _again_ ,” he continued. “Practically undressing me with his eyes.”

“Would that please you, if he was?” Hannibal asked, looking directly at Will much in the way he’d looked at the waiter. Challenging, but with a darkness that suggested there was no way he would be anything but the victor. 

“He is pretty cute,” Will said, with a thoughtful pout. 

Hannibal’s eyes darkened a shade more, and his nostrils flared ever so slightly. He cleared his throat as he was about to speak, but Will interrupted by raising a hand to beckon over the waiter. The man came quickly to the table, clearly avoiding Hannibal’s eyes on purpose, and looked at Will with a shy smile.

“Do you speak English?” Will asked him. “Umm, parlez vous anglais?”

“Only a little, monsieur,” the man replied. 

Will smiled brightly at him, “that’s Okay. The food is wonderful, by the way, and your service has been excellent thus far.”

“Thank you, monsieur,” the waiter replied. He tilted his head coquettishly and smiled more confidently. “Our clients mean much to us. We want to, um, how would you say… guarantee pleasure?”

“We appreciate that,” Will replied coyly, feeling a little burst of glee in his chest at the faint but clearly irritated sigh from Hannibal’s side of the table. “Could I have another neat whisky please, my friend?”

“Whisky,” the waiter repeated, then winked sensually and turned to go back to the bar, narrowly avoiding bumping into another server with an armful of menus. 

“Attention á la marche,” Hannibal called after him, his tone pleasant, but his eyes full of growing storm.

“He seems like a nice guy, doesn’t he?” Will said innocently once the waiter was out of earshot.

“I am aware of what you’re doing, Will, you do realise that?” Hannibal replied, annoyance in his voice. 

“If you’re aware, does that mean it’s working?” Will shot back instantly, enjoying himself immensely.

Hannibal brusquely adjusted the neck of his tie, looking away from Will towards the bar. “Quite the opposite. One doe-eyed waiter does not threaten me, no matter how much he throws himself at you with his glances and smiles,” he said coolly, “and your attempt to perturb me by encouraging him is too transparent a ploy to have any effect.”

“Are you sure my flirting is only a ploy?” Will teased, and Hannibal looked sharply back at him.

“Are you suggesting otherwise, Will?” he almost growled.

“Are you positive that’s not a little bit of jealousy creeping in there, Hannibal?” Will retorted, offering him a cheeky grin and standing up from the table before giving him time to reply. “I’m going to the restroom.”

He knew Hannibal was watching him, so as he made his way to the men’s room, he veered close to the bar until he was faced with their handsome young waiter, awaiting the whisky from the bartender. He could almost feel Hannibal’s stare on his back, and he deliberately reached up to pat the waiter’s arm as he attempted to chat through the language barrier.

Hannibal felt a prickle of annoyance as he watched Will talking with the man, scoffing to himself as the waiter clearly stumbled with his English. Most staff in exclusive establishments such as this were bi-lingual, for the benefit of ignorant wealthy tourists, but not this young moron. Hannibal was irritated that despite what he had said, Will’s little game was indeed affecting him; if not jealousy, perhaps he was fooling himself that he didn’t at least feel possessive of his companion.

He watched Will like a hawk as he left the waiter and went to the restroom, feeling ready to break the young man’s arm if he dared follow. Luckily for him, he had sense enough to remain at the bar, sharing a laugh with a passing waitress.

When Will returned moments later and sat down beside him, Hannibal sidled up close to him. 

“I believe you have made your point,” he said in a low tone, his face close to Will’s, “perhaps now you might abandon your little game, and allow us to enjoy the rest of our meal.”

Will leaned even closer until his lips were hovering a fraction away from Hannibal’s own.

“If my point had been made, my dear Hannibal,” he whispered, “I take it you admit that your lovely feathers were at least a little bit ruffled?” 

Hannibal’s eyes smouldered, and Will could see that the doctor really wanted to kiss him, but obviously still didn’t want to admit that Will had pushed his buttons. Will purposefully kept his lips from just touching the older man’s, breathing out softly through his mouth so Hannibal could feel his warm breath.

“You’re a terrible tease, Will,” Hannibal murmured. He ached to close the heated distance between them and kiss Will, but he managed to restrain himself; it gratified him that he was indeed able to retain that control, and proved to himself at the same time that Will couldn’t rattle him quite so readily. “I am still quite in control of my faculties, however. So sorry to disappoint you.” He leaned back, breaking their closeness, and reached for his fork to calmly take a bite of glazed carrot.

Will narrowed his eyes and smirked at Hannibal.

“Is that so,” he chuckled. “Would you like to know what that young man said to me at the bar? He said that I could meet him behind the restaurant when his shift ends. He was extremely forward. He said he would like to, how you say, ‘give it to me’.”

There was a light clang of metal as Hannibal abruptly set his cutlery down on his plate.

“He also said I would enjoy it, and I should lose _le vieil homme_ ,” Will added. 

Hannibal was very still, but his eyes blazed. “The old man. He said you should lose the old man,” he clarified. “How very rude of him.”

“Rude, indeed. What is to be done about it?” Will asked, his tone shifting in an instant to one far more serious. There was no humour in his eyes.

Hannibal was unable to mask his surprise, and a rare look struck his features. His eyebrows were raised, his lips parted in effort to say something, but his voice couldn’t get free right away. He simply looked into Will’s face earnestly, seeking a sign that he was actually suggesting what he seemed to be.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t aware you were ready for us to…” he began, but Will interrupted him by moving in quickly to kiss him, his lips crushing the words before they came. 

While Hannibal’s breath was momentarily taken away, Will broke the kiss and nuzzled his face into the side of the other man’s, so his mouth was positioned beside his ear. He ran his right hand through Hannibal’s sleek hair and whispered softly.

“ _He’s a murderer_.”

He felt Hannibal try to turn to face him, and he held on to his hair to keep his head in place, determined to keep the conversation as hushed as possible. He heard a very slight grunt of pain from Hannibal as he gripped his hair, but it wasn’t a displeased sound; in fact, he could almost hear a smile behind it.

“He has a knife in his pocket. I saw the shape through the material of his pants; bulky, oblong, a folding knife, something you wouldn’t use in a restaurant,” Will murmured. “He has blood under the nails of his left pinkie and ring finger. Deep, like he’s dug his fingers into flesh really hard, and didn’t manage to scrape the residue out from underneath. His shirt is extremely white, whiter than the other wait staff’s; it’s been bleached to remove bloodstains.”

Will gave Hannibal’s earlobe a delicate bite, and felt him shiver slightly from it. 

“He missed a spot on blood on the lace of one shoe, though. He killed recently, almost certainly this week, and while wearing his work uniform,” Will concluded quietly, grazing his lips across Hannibal’s smoothly-shaven cheek as he drew away from their close confines.

Hannibal looked at him with an expression akin to wonder, and riddled with admiration.

“You really are a cunning boy,” he purred. 

“I hope you didn’t think for a moment I was actually interested in him,” Will said softly, pleased with the compliment. 

As if on cue, the waiter appeared at the table side with Will’s whisky in hand and apologised for the wait, as the barman had needed to fetch another bottle of scotch from storage.

“That’s quite alright,” Will smiled cheerfully, and the man nodded politely before leaving, deliberately ignoring Hannibal completely this time. 

“You were right about his shirt, now that I was paying attention to him I could smell the acrid scent of the bleach,” Hannibal said quietly. “He’s an amateur, probably hasn’t killed more than a few times. He’s also a wholly unprofessional waiter,” he muttered.

“His shift ends in forty minutes,” Will said suddenly, checking the gold leaf-emblazoned clock on the wall above the bar. “He implied the space behind the restaurant was private.”

“You realise he may actually be planning to kill you,” Hannibal observed. “His last kill was in his work clothes. He may feel a rush of superiority or simple adrenaline killing right outside his place of work. He serves these people, possibly feels lower than them, and perhaps then believes he is elevating himself above them by killing. If the staff’s cars are parked behind the building, it would be easy enough for him to take a life and then load the body into his car, and drive to a disposal site without being spotted with blood on his person.”

“Or easy enough for us,” Will ventured.

Hannibal didn’t suppress his gleeful grin. “We have some time to kill, if you’ll pardon the pun. Shall we order dessert? Something decadent. I feel like celebrating.”

 

**************

 

Will and Hannibal shared a lavish, made-for-two portion of rich, flour-less Belgian chocolate cake, which Will teased was the most delicious dessert he’d ever had, and the deadpan look Hannibal gave him sent him off giggling for a good few minutes, until they were laughing together and playfully jabbing one another in the ribs. Will couldn’t recall ever seeing the doctor in such good spirits, and it gladdened his heart. It felt so good to feel comfortable for a change.

Presented with the reality that Will was not only ready to join him in a kill but had gone so far as to select the target himself, had brought a swell of joy to Hannibal’s chest, the like of which he couldn’t ever remember feeling. After their emergence from the ocean and the subsequent healing period, followed by much intense conversation about their lives ahead, he knew Will had accepted that taking more lives together was an inevitability, yet hadn’t thus far shown any desire to actually go ahead with it. Now, he was ready; he had said it, finally really suggested a kill, and had proffered a victim. He wasn’t sure he could fully express his happiness at that moment.

During their dessert, Will made sure to catch the glance of their condemned waiter a few times to give him an inviting smile and a wink, which the man returned, while Hannibal pretended not to notice. As time quickly wound down and the waiter headed towards the kitchen while untying his apron, Will had the check brought to their table, and they paid in cash. 

After thanking the host in a merry French stream of compliments, Hannibal whispered to Will as the front doors were held open for them, “are you certain about this, Will?”

“Yes,” Will replied plainly.

He was.

As they had quietly discussed at dinner, Hannibal slipped away through the sparse crowd of people to check out the back of the restaurant and bring the car as close as possible. Will looked at his watch, and after giving Hannibal five minutes, he made his own way around the side of the large building; he was relieved to see that it was indeed a staff car park, mostly closed off, very quiet, and not particularly well-lit. They could proceed. He had expected as much; whether the waiter intended to hurt him or fuck him, he wasn’t likely to have invited Will to join him here unless there wasn’t much chance of them being caught.

He glanced around at the parked cars, and though it was difficult in the dark, he managed to pick out their rental at the far side of the lot where Hannibal had brought it via the entry/exit path to the street where they had been parked, the dark blue vehicle appearing black in the absence of light. The engine was turned off, the car still, no sign of Hannibal. Will knew he would be lurking inside, with the door cracked open a little so as not to make a noise when he exited.

“Bonjour encore,” came the voice of the waiter, as the young man appeared from around the same side of the restaurant that Will had come.

Will turned and smiled at him, what he hoped was a sultry smile. “Hi. I didn’t catch your name?” he said. He pointed to himself, “Will.”

The waiter smiled broadly and pointed to himself also, “Mathys.”

“Mathys,” Will repeated. “I like that.”

The young man stepped forward towards him, sweeping a hand back over his tidy blonde hair, and glancing around them cautiously as he moved. Will moved too, stepping closer to the wall behind them, his footfalls matching Mathys’, who grinned and followed his direction. The back of Will’s neck prickled slightly, on guard as he tried to gauge the man’s intent. Were his green eyes glinting with desire, or was it murder Will could see? He knew the two could be hard to differentiate, having been on the receiving end of both after an indistinguishable stare from Hannibal.

Will felt his back touch the wall of the restaurant, the thought fleeting by that it wasn’t a good idea to allow himself less space in which to move, but he didn’t have time to think about it further as Mathys reached him. The man stood directly in front of Will, and leaned in to fasten his lips against Will’s. The waiter’s tongue pushed into Will’s mouth, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise at the force behind it.

It was mere seconds later that Will felt Mathys pull away hard, too hard to have been anything but by a forceful pull; in a flash, he had watched Hannibal wrench the younger man off him, throw him to the ground, and give him a hefty kick in the gut to wind him, rendering him unable to speak as he lay gasping desperately for a breath.

The folding knife he had pulled from his pocket while kissing Will lay on the ground, where it had been dropped at the shock of Hannibal’s strong hands grabbing his shoulders from behind. Will bent down to pick it up, flipped it open and inspected it closely; dried blood had gathered in the groove between the blade and handle.

“Guess he did plan to kill me after all,” he mused. 

He looked up at Hannibal, and saw that he was breathing hard and fast, his eyes trained intently on Will. His expression was dark, his stare conveying what looked like fury; his hands were balled into fists, and they were actually trembling a little.

“What is it?” Will asked, worried. “Hannibal…?”

“This is unacceptable, Will,” Hannibal growled, and he stormed towards Will, breaching the small gap between them in three strides. 

Will braced himself, confused and unsure whether or not Hannibal intended to hit him in his sudden rage. As Hannibal came right up to his face, he flinched, but then Hannibal grabbed the sides of his face and crushed his mouth against Will’s own, his kiss hard and passionate. Will made a shocked noise in his throat that was almost a squeak, before closing his eyes and returning the kiss, as the familiar warmth from it rushed over him and he began to sink into it. Their kiss tasted ever so faintly of chocolate. He curled his tongue around Hannibal’s and murmured softly, until Hannibal gently drew back an inch or so from Will.

“You will not… be used as bait again,” he said breathlessly, inhaling deeply to steady his words. “He drew the knife almost immediately. If I hadn’t been prepared, he could have killed you.” He lightly touched Will’s parted lips with his fingers. “I was… overcome, by your eagerness to do this, but we need to plan much more carefully in future. And… watching another kiss you is not a situation I ever want to be in again.”

Will blinked slowly and let out a soft half laugh, half sigh. He kissed Hannibal’s flushed cheek.

“Are you actually admitting jealousy, doctor?” he smiled.

“I suppose I am,” Hannibal said finally, after a moment of trying to think of a way to deflect the question, and choosing to concede instead. “Seeing him put his mouth on you was just… it was not bearable. If admitting to you that I was…”

“Ruffled?” Will suggested; his tone held a blatant ‘I told you so’.

“Yes,” Hannibal said with a small smile, allowing Will his moment, “if admitting that I was _ruffled_ is enough to persuade you that we can’t hunt like this again, then I would repeat it a thousand-fold.”

“No need, Hannibal. I have no desire to be kissed by anyone else again if I can help it,” Will said dryly, casting his eyes over to the doubled-over man on the ground, who was trying to get up onto his knees, an arm wrapped gingerly around his middle. “I don’t much fancy the idea of being stabbed by a cretin like him, either.”

Hannibal released him and turned back to Mathys, stooping on one knee beside him and grabbing a clump of his hair in one hand, pulling his head back sharply. The young man gasped, and hissed a tirade of what Will imagined could only be insults from the vitriol in his words. Hannibal jerked his hair again much harder, causing Mathys to grit his teeth and grunt in pain.

“What did he say?” Will asked, joining Hannibal and mirroring his kneeling position, at their captive’s front rather than his side. 

“He has a coarse mouth,” Hannibal glowered. “He called us despicable queers, and a couple of other things I’d rather not repeat. It seems he has a profound dislike of homosexuality. Ironic, considering his method of luring you out here. He also said he’s going to cut me open.”

“Is that so,” Will said coldly, bringing the open knife up in front of Mathys’ face. The man’s eyes widened at the proximity of the sharp blade. “Is that what you think is going to happen? You know, my friend and I don’t respond well to being threatened. I have to say, we find you rather rude. Bad news for you.”

“Je ne comprends pas,” the man muttered, his eyes locked on the knife.

“He doesn’t understand what you said,” Hannibal said, before repeating in French what Will had said to the man.

Mathys scoffed immediately, “Ami? Hah! _Fagots_.” 

“Okay, I understood that well enough,” Will snarled, “and I assume you’ll understand this.”

He raised the knife, and brought it down as hard as he could into the man’s stomach. Hannibal clamped a hand over Mathys’ mouth instantly to muffle the scream that came with the blow, and used his thumb and forefinger to pinch his nose at the same time, cutting off his air altogether. He tried to struggle, yelling against Hannibal’s hand, and as he moved frantically, the knife Will was holding in place cut into him more and more. Hot blood pumped from the great gash, covering Will’s hand, and seeping over the man’s shirt and trousers.

Will felt euphoric. As the blood flowed, he could imagine each little cell, each a minute fraction of the man’s life, leaving his body and absorbing into the material of his clothes. So close to his body still, but now useless to him. Will’s mind raced, the sensation of power swimming around his mind, coursing through him, like the blood was coursing from the wound he had created. 

He looked up at Hannibal, who was watching him, his eyes gleaming, his face still, yet rapt. He looked fascinated, positively intoxicated. The veins on the back of his hand were pronounced from the force of suffocating the young man. Will grinned at him, a sneer of contempt for the bleeding pig in their arms, and gave the knife an almighty twist.

Mathys had no air in his lungs nor strength left to try and cry out, now only able to squeeze his heavy-lidded eyes shut in agony, his writhing slowing down, movement becoming too great an effort for his dying body. He began to slump to the side, almost leaning into Hannibal as if for comfort, while his consciousness rapidly faded. Hannibal took his hand away, and the man’s face was almost bone-white, his lips devoid of colour, noticeable even in the low light.

His death had taken less than three minutes.

“We need to move him quickly now,” Hannibal breathed, his gaze still hooked on Will’s face.

Will nodded, and withdrew the knife from the dead man’s gut. He used the bottom of the bleached white shirt to wipe the bloodied handle clean of any fingerprints, then slipped it back into the trouser pocket it had originated from, and stood with Hannibal to gather up the body. Taking an end of it each, they moved hurriedly to their car. The trunk was already popped, and Hannibal lifted it up with one arm, supporting the body with the other. There was a sheet of plastic on the floor of the trunk.

“You were prepared for this,” Will observed. “Had you suspected it would be soon?”

“I was hopeful,” Hannibal replied, and grunted as they heaved the corpse onto the sheet, careful not to smear any blood on the rear of the car. He leaned in to wrap the plastic over the ill-fated Mathys, winding the sheet around the head and feet, and making a neat bundle of sorts in the middle. “We should be fine getting back to the apartment once we’ve taken care of our charming waiter here; the blood has mostly soaked into his clothes, and blood won’t be readily noticeable on us in the dark. We shall launder our clothes immediately, at home.”

Will watched him work, so efficient, and supposed that he’d done this several times in the past. Will glanced down at the covered face of the dead man, distorted by the milky-coloured plastic like the reflection in a steam-fogged mirror. 

“We should have taken that hateful tongue,” he said thoughtfully. “You could’ve made us a midnight snack with it.” He chuckled at his sudden thought.

Hannibal looked at him in astonishment, and closed the trunk door, turning to face him directly.

“You have been full of surprises tonight, Will,” he uttered softly. “I hope you know how much you have impressed me. For being a man not easily taken aback, you have a knack for surprising me.”

Will felt his cheeks grow warm. “Proud of me, huh?”

“Immeasurably.” 

Hannibal circled his arms around Will’s waist, drawing him close, gazing upon his face lovingly. “Tell me, how did you feel when taking his life with me? How do you feel now?”

“I felt strong. Powerful. Elevated,” Will replied, brushing the tip of his nose against Hannibal’s. “I felt like we were above everything in that moment. I felt gratified to kill him in your presence; you created me, and you helped me destroy him. It was spectacular.”

He had intended to stoke Hannibal’s ego a little, but realised quickly that what he said was actually true for him.

“I still feel powerful,” he continued, gently kissing Hannibal’s top lip, evoking a soft sigh from him. “I feel elated. I feel _good_. And you?”

“Exactly as you describe. I feel elated,” Hannibal replied, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Will’s again. He added in a whisper, “I feel as though we are the only two souls that matter. Like we exist at this moment in a place separate from everyone else; above everyone else.”

“We do,” Will whispered back. He embraced Hannibal tightly, resting his face against the older man’s broad chest, listening to the excited beat of his heart. 

Hannibal held on to Will just as firmly, breathing in the scent of his hair; sweat from their efforts, a subtle floral odour from their lavender shampoo, a tangy hint of blood. There was always something about the smell of Will that appealed to several of the doctor’s senses at once. Perhaps a few errant droplets had found their way into the curled locks. He knew that once home, they’d need to put their clothes through a cold wash cycle first, then a regular one, and they’d both need a shower. They could take one together, or soak together in the luxurious tub in the apartment’s bathroom. He envisioned lying there at peace in the hot, fragrant water, with his young companion in his arms, this beautiful, magnificent, divine killer…

“Hannibal,” Will murmured, his voice rippling through Hannibal’s reverie.

“Mm?”

He gasped softly as he suddenly felt Will’s fingers press against his crotch, making him immediately aware that he was very hard beneath the touch. 

“You really did enjoy yourself tonight, huh?” Will said, good-natured amusement in his tone. He began to caress Hannibal’s erection through the material of his suit trousers with the palm of his hand. 

Hannibal sucked in a sharp breath. “My mind wandered somewhere else for a moment. Somewhere you and I happened to be naked,” he replied.

Will chuckled and looked up at him, without stopping the motion of his hand. “I’m not complaining. Believe me.” His hand fumbled to pull Hannibal’s trousers open, just enough to slide his hand inside and take hold of Hannibal’s stiff cock. It was thick and heavy in his hand, and warm to the touch. He murmured appreciatively, and tilted his chin upwards, seeking a kiss.

Hannibal obliged gladly, momentarily taking Will’s bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle bite, growling softly in his throat. Will smiled, and began to stroke Hannibal’s cock as best he could within the confines of his pants, making him moan against their kiss. His sounds of pleasure quickly coaxed Will’s own half-erect dick to full hardness, and the younger man started stroking Hannibal faster, his desire beginning to quickly mount.

“Will,” Hannibal murmured, his breathing steadily becoming faster. “Let’s go. I’d really like to get you home as soon as possible.”

“Something wrong with right here?” Will said immediately, looking into Hannibal’s eyes, gripping tightly at the base of his dick. “Don’t you want to have me, now? It feels like you’re ready right now. Nobody here but a dead man.”

Hannibal stared into Will’s lust-filled eyes, his lips parted as he panted slightly, the world spinning deliciously around him from the sensation in his groin. He couldn’t restrain from bucking forward slightly as Will’s expert hand slid upwards and began to firmly massage the end of his cock. 

“You would actually let me, wouldn’t you,” Hannibal breathed. 

Will gave him as salacious and dirty a grin as he could muster, gazing right at him confidently, nodding slowly. He snaked the tip of his tongue out and ran it over his lips enticingly. Hannibal was entranced.

“Do you want it, Hannibal?” Will whispered, deliberately pouting his lips ever so slightly on the ‘w’ of the word want, and drawling Hannibal’s name slowly, sensually. “I want it.” 

Hannibal groaned, a visible shudder running through his entire body; he quickly moved away from Will and his eager hand to move around the car and yank open the back-seat door, before reaching again for Will, taking him by the wrist and pulling him towards him roughly.

“You’re a shameless little flirt, Will Graham,” he growled, pushing a hard kiss on Will, who moaned eagerly at Hannibal’s fevered passion. “Get in the car, now.”

His face animated with arousal, Will climbed swiftly into the back seat, turning onto his back and scrabbling to undo his pants. Hannibal loomed at the door, lust dominating his features, pushing his own pants and underwear down to his knees. He shrugged off his jacket and shirt, for once uncaring that they were cast to the ground. He took his big flushed cock in his hand and began to jerk it as he watched Will undressing, his face positively predatory.

Will trembled as he shoved his pants down to his ankles, sitting up just enough to pull off his shoes and socks, before getting his pants off completely and throwing them to the floor of the car. He slid out of his jacket and undid his shirt, stuffing both of them down beside the trousers. His dick was as wildly hard as Hannibal’s, and it stood erect and quivering, desperate for contact. His eyes locked with Hannibal’s, both of them panting softly in their excitement.

“Put your hands above your head,” Hannibal ordered, climbing inside the car and kneeling above Will, stooping slightly to avoid hitting his head on the car roof. His hand continued to work up and down his member without missing a beat.

Will did as he was told, perspiration trickling down his temples, his chest rising and falling fast. He licked his lips and without being told, drew his knees up and let them fall widely apart, to make room for Hannibal. The voracious look of fierce hunger on his lover’s face made Will’s cock throb, his heart thundering in his chest, as he craved the hard fuck he knew Hannibal was aching to give.

“Hannibal,” Will groaned desperately.

Hannibal positioned himself between Will’s legs, his dishevelled hair falling slightly over his eyes, somehow making him look even more like a predatory animal. Will whimpered with need as Hannibal put two fingers in his mouth and sucked them to slick them with spit, then began to probe firmly at Will’s tight asshole with them, pressing his way inside, both fingers at once.

“Oh, yeah, oh that’s fucking good,” Will snarled through gritted teeth, far too turned on for it to hurt; it only felt delicious, erotic, and wanton. He held onto the inner handle of the door behind his head, and bore down against Hannibal’s hand, encouraging the invading fingers to go deeper, to stretch him more.

Only able to stand the heady anticipation a few moments more, Hannibal withdrew his fingers, and spat twice into the palm of his other hand. He eased back his foreskin, exposing the thick, red-flushed rounded head of his cock, and quickly rubbed his wet hand over it and down the shaft, coating it as best he could, biting down hard on his lip at the firm contact with the sensitive tip.

Hannibal held on to Will’s hips to help align their bodies, and then used one arm to hold himself up, while the other guided the head of his dick to Will’s ass, pressing against it firmly, without entering, relishing the hot sensation and the sweet anticipation of the pleasure to come.

“You want this, Will?” Hannibal goaded.

“Yes! God, yes!” Will cried, bearing down again, trying to make Hannibal enter him.

Hannibal resisted, only just. “Beg me,” he breathed softly. He was torturing himself at that point, but he was confident it would be worth it. “You were so eager to see me lose my composure. I want to see you abandon yours completely. _Beg for it_.”

Beyond pride and much too aroused for shame, Will gave in eagerly, “Please Hannibal, please. Please!”

“Please what,” Hannibal purred, licking his lips and gazing down at Will’s beautiful anguish with an appetite unlike anything he had felt for him before this moment. He felt as though every nerve in his body were on fire.

“Thought you… hated it when… I curse,” Will hissed through his teeth, his eyes tightly closed.

Hannibal responded by sliding the head of his cock into Will, only the head, holding Will down hard and steady so he couldn’t thrust back into it, and Will almost roared in frustration in between heaving breaths.

“Sass me and I’ll keep you like this until you can’t stand it any more,” Hannibal scolded, flexing his prick so it jumped enough for Will to feel it.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, please!” Will cried out, gulping in a big breath.

“Please what,” Hannibal repeated in as calm as voice as he could manage. The urge to just thrust up into Will and fuck him wildly was overpowering, and his body shook with the effort of holding back.

“Please fuck me, just fuck me,” Will begged, opening his eyes and pleading up at his maddeningly teasing lover. “Fuck me hard, Hannibal!” His eyelids were fluttering madly, his breathing dangerously close to hyperventilating. “ _Give it to me, damn you_!”

Satisfied that he was victorious, Hannibal smirked to himself, and then pushed himself deep inside Will, right up to the base of his cock. They both cried out at the same time with the pleasure of it, almost making the same noise; their lust-glazed eyes met again and they laughed aloud together for a few seconds at the imitation of each other, before Hannibal started thrusting fast and hard into Will.

Will writhed beneath him as he hammered into his body, finding himself near to screaming each time Hannibal’s big dick struck his sweet spot. He could see through the heat and haze that Hannibal was already close too; he had bitten down so hard on his lip again that it was bleeding and he didn’t even seem to notice, and his short, sharp breaths were drawing closer and closer together.

As Will teetered close to coming, he watched the euphoric, broad-chested, exquisite man he loved fuck him with all the raw passion of a virginal teen, and felt a powerful surge of emotion that set his inflamed desire even further on edge.

“Oh, Hannibal,” he moaned in a low voice, “I love you… oh fuck that’s so good… oh, I love you so much…”

Hannibal lowered himself right down on top of Will, and sought his mouth as he moved against him, never breaking his frantic stride. His lips met Will’s and they shared several wet, delirious kisses, their tongues clashing lustfully, their breath hot against both their faces.

“I love you, Will,” Hannibal whispered against the younger man’s mouth, “Oh, how I love you…” Another fervent kiss, and he gasped loudly, as Will began bucking his ass upwards as hard as he could, full of Hannibal’s thick cock yet somehow still desperate for him to push harder.

Will’s dick was pressed firmly between them as they ground together wildly, and the friction had driven him half-mad; he knew he didn’t need it to come, but God it felt amazing. He curled his toes and he trembled violently as Hannibal obliged his desire and aggressively pounded into him as forcefully as he could, and he heard an animalistic growl, followed by a sharp, painful bite on the flesh of his shoulder. It hurt like Hell; it hurt so beautifully!

The incredible pressure and fiery sensations became too much all at once, and Will came hard, crying out with the intensity as his dick shot a hot white flood between their sweat-sheened bodies, moaning at the sensual heat inside him as Hannibal came almost immediately after him, throwing his full weight into every thrust, spilling his own cum inside him with a long, shuddering moan. 

He lay down on top of Will, nuzzling into his throat, utterly exhausted, but beyond satisfied. Will was quickly becoming aware that his thighs, upper arms, bitten shoulder, and his ass were all sore, but he was blissfully sated, tingling, and content, nevertheless. He slowly lowered his aching arms with a grunt, and draped them over his lover’s back, gently running his fingers across the damp, warm skin. He smiled sleepily as he felt Hannibal very gently kiss his neck.

“Are you alright, my love?” Hannibal murmured.

“Mmhmm. That was incredible,” Will whispered.

“A gross understatement, I’m sure,” Hannibal replied, smiling against Will’s throat. “It was rather vigorous considering the lack of lubricant, though, and I think I bit you rather hard; are you sure you’re alright?”

“Well, my shoulder huts a bit, and I won’t lie, my ass does feel like it was hit by a bus,” Will admitted with a dry laugh, “a _big_ bus. But damn, it was worth it.”

Hannibal raised himself up on his elbows and grinned lazily at Will, giving his forehead a soft kiss before pushing himself up further, slowly easing his softening member out of Will’s rear. Spit really was a poor substitute for proper lube; his cock was almost dry, and he was sure there was the faintest streak of blood down one side of it. Will grunted quietly at the sting of the removal.

“We’ll have to take it easy for a few days, I think,” Hannibal remarked. He knelt up and ducked his head as he stepped backwards out of the cramped space in the car, pulling up his underwear and trousers, readjusting himself neatly and smoothing down his hair. He reached back in to pick up Will’s socks and trousers, and handed them to him. Will dressed more slowly than Hannibal, stretching gingerly as he moved, while trying not to sit his behind down too directly.

“I’m sorry to have hurt you,” Hannibal said with sincerity, as he watched his young lover gather himself.

“Don’t be, I recall I was the one who wanted it harder,” Will replied, his little laugh slightly embarrassed. "Hopefully nobody notices the steamed-up windows..."

Hannibal grinned and closed the car door he had exited from, and came around the other side, to open the door for Will. He extended his hand for Will to take, and helped him rise unsteadily to his feet. Will leaned against Hannibal for support as his shaky legs regained control; he used it as an excuse to embrace him in a hug, breathing in the smell of him, and Hannibal lovingly curled his arms around the smaller man.

“We best get moving huh, we still have to find a suitable place to dispose of our waiter,” Will said, stifling a yawn.

“I have a good idea where to take him, don’t worry.” Hannibal closed Will’s door again, and opened the front passenger door for him, offering his arm for support. Will took it gratefully and eased himself into the seat, grimacing slightly as he made contact with it. He was definitely going to suffer for this for a day or two, yet he didn’t mind at all. He wouldn’t have traded what had just happened for anything.

He smiled fondly at Hannibal when he climbed into the driver’s seat beside him.

“I still think we should have taken his tongue for later,” Will chuckled, leaning his head back against the faux leather headrest and closing his tired eyes.

“Well, I’m sure it’s still there,” Hannibal mused, his eyes twinkling as he turned the ignition key.

 

The End


End file.
